He chuckled. “No harm done. In fact you can slurp the rest of it if you’d like. It’s just you and me.”
She grinned. “Thanks, but I better not.” He then watched as she took her fork in her hand, preparing to eat the rest of her spaghetti in the classical and cultured way.
“I take it your parents were strong disciplinarians,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.
Her smile slowly faded. “They still are or at least they try to be. Even now they will stop at nothing to get me back to Savannah so they can keep an eye on me. I got a call from my attorney this morning warning me they’ve possibly found a loophole in the trust fund my grandparents established for me before they died.”
He lifted a brow. “What kind of a loophole?”
“One that says I’m supposed to be married after the first year. If that’s true I have less than three months,”
she said in disgust. “I’m sure they’re counting on me returning to Savannah to marry Hugh.”
He sipped his wine. “Hugh?”
She met his gaze and he could see the troubled look in hers. “Yes, Hugh Pierce. His family comes from Savannah’s old money and my parents have made up their minds that Hugh and I are a perfect match.”
He watched her shoulders rise and fall after releasing several sighs. Evidently the thought of becoming Mrs. Hugh Pierce bothered her. Hell, the thought bothered him, as well.
In a way he should be overjoyed, elated, that there was a possibility she was moving back to Savannah. That meant her ranch and Hercules would probably be up for sale. And when they were, he would be ready to make her an offer he hoped she wouldn’t refuse. He knew he wasn’t the only one wanting the land and no telling how many others wanted Hercules, but he was determined that the prized stallion wouldn’t fall into anyone’s hands but his.
And yet, he wasn’t overjoyed or elated at the thought that she would return to Savannah.
He got the impression her parents were controlling people or at least they tried to be. He began eating, wondering why her parents wanted to shove this Hugh Pierce down her throat when she evidently wasn’t feeling the guy. Would they coerce her to marry someone just because the man came from “old money"?
He forced the thought to the back of his mind, thinking who she ended up marrying was no concern of his. But making sure his name headed the list as a potential buyer for her ranch and livestock was. He glanced over at her. “When will you know what you’ll have to do?”
She looked up after taking a sip of her wine. “I’m not sure. I have a good attorney but I have to admit my parents’ attorney is more experienced in such matters. In other words, he’s crafty as sin. I’m sure when my grandparents drew up my trust they thought they were looking out for my future because in their social circles, ideally, a young woman married by her twenty-sixth birthday. For her to attend college was just a formality since she was expected to marry a man who had the means to take care of her.”
“And your parents have no qualms in forcing you to marry?”
“No, not one iota,” she said without pause. “They don’t truly care about my happiness. All they care about is that they would be proving once again they control my life and always will.”
He heard the trembling in her voice and when she looked down as to study her silverware, he knew her composure was being threatened. At that moment, something inside of him wanted to get up, pull her into his arms and tell her things would be all right. But he couldn’t rightly say that. He had no way of knowing they would be for her, given the situation she was in. Actually it was her problem not his. Still another part of him couldn’t help regretting that her misfortune could end up being his golden opportunity.
“I thought I’d finally gotten free of my parents’ watchful eyes at college, only to discover they had certain people in place, school officials and professors, keeping tabs on me and reporting to them on my behavior,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
“And I thought, I truly believed, the money I’m getting from my trust fund and inheriting the ranch were my way of living my life the way I want and an end to being under my parents’ control. I was going to exert my freedom for the first time in my life.”
She paused briefly. “Jason. I really love it here. I’ve been able to live the way I want, do the things I want. It’s a freedom I’ve never had and I don’t want to give it up.”
They sat staring at each other for what seemed like several mind-numbing moments and then Jason spoke. “Then don’t give it up. Fight them for what you want.”
Her shoulders slumped again. “Although I plan to try, it’s easier said than done. My father is a well-known and powerful man in Savannah and a lot of the judges are his personal friends. For anyone to even try something as archaic as forcing someone to marry is ludicrous. But my parents will do it with their friends’ help if it brings me to heel.”
Once again Bella fell silent for a moment. “When I received word about Herman and confronted my father as to why he never told me about his life here in Denver, he wouldn’t tell me, but I’ve been reading my grandfather’s journals. He claims my father hated living here while growing up. His mother had visited this area from Savannah, met Herman and fell in love and never went back east. Her family disowned her for it. But after college my father moved to Savannah and sought out his maternal grandparents and they were willing to accept him in their good graces but only if he never reminded them of what they saw as their daughter’s betrayal, so he didn’t.”
She then straightened her shoulders and forced a smile to her lips. “Let’s change the subject,” she suggested. “Thinking about my woes is rather depressing and you’ve made lunch too nice for me to be depressed about anything.”
They enjoyed the rest of their meal conversing about other things. He told her about his horse breeding business and about how he and the Atlanta Westmorelands had discovered they were related through his great-grandfather Raphel Westmoreland.
“Was your grandfather really married to all those women?” she asked after he told her the tale of how Raphel had become a black sheep in the family after running off in the early nineteen hundreds with the preacher’s wife and all the other wives he supposedly collected along the way.
He took another sip of wine. “That’s what everyone is trying to find out. We need to know if there are any more Westmorelands out there. Megan is hiring a private detective to help solve the puzzle about Raphel’s wives. We’ve eliminated two and now we have two more to check out.”
When they finished the main course Jason used his cell phone to call downstairs to say they were ready for dessert. Moments later banana pudding was delivered to them. Bella thought the dessert was simply delicious. She usually didn’t eat a lot of sweets but once she’d taken a bite she couldn’t help but finish the whole thing.
A short while later, after they’d devoured the dessert with coffee, Jason checked his watch. “We’re right on schedule. I’ll take you back in time to get your car so you can make your meeting with Marvin.”
Jason stood, rounded the table and reached for her hand. The instant they touched it seemed a rush of heated sensations tore through the both of them at the same time. It was absorbed in their bones, tangled their flesh and he all but shuddered under the impact. The alluring scent of her filled his nostrils and his breath was freed on a ragged sigh.
Some part of his brain told him to take a step back and put distance between them. But then another part told him he was facing the inevitable. There had been this blazing attraction, this tantalizing degree of lust between them from the beginning. For him it had been since the moment he had seen her when she’d entered the ballroom with Kenneth Bostwick. He had known then he wanted her.
They stared at each other and for a second he thought she would avert her